An Underrated Cardboard Box
by helotastic
Summary: Inspired by crayons. Now, you don't hear that every day. Marauder's Era, Golden Trio, and New Generation drabbles prompted by Crayola crayon colors. Technically complete.
1. Shadow

Shadow

He is shunned by the general public.

His coal black robes, with the sleeve pushed up, expose a pale forearm blemished by horrifying black ink.

Faded. Muted. Yet still vivid in memory.

It evokes the horrible, horrible atrocities that are a shadow on his soul. The indifferent curses and murder attempts he so obediently executed.

He is not a hero.

But he is not the villain.

Innocent? No.

Is anyone?

Remorseful?

Yes.

People will still cross the street to avoid passing by him. Faces turned away. Harsh, judgmental mutters.

That's okay.

It's okay.

But he wishes they could forgive him.

**This is for Draco, in case you couldn't tell.**


	2. Blush

Blush

She hated it when she blushed.

Some girls blushed prettily, their cheeks the perfect shade of rosy pink.

Unfortunately, she wasn't one of those girls.

When Lily was embarrassed, her face flushed a bright, splotchy crimson.

Potter liked to say it matched her flaming red hair.

Potter was often taken to the Hospital Wing after saying so.

And much too soon, he would be back on his feet, asking her to go to Hogsmeade with him in front of the entire student body.

Which made her blush.

And then it was all déjà vu from there.

Stupid Potter.

**Give me a nice review and I'll give you a cookie: (::)  
><strong>


	3. Emerald

**Sorry for the long wait! I'm juggling around five different stories right now.**

Emerald

Albus stared at the mirror. Emerald green eyes stared back.

Your grandmother's eyes, his father always told him.

But between his eyes and messy dark hair, he was always known as "Harry Potter's son."

Not Al.

Not even just Albus.

Harry Potter's son.

He learned to ignore the whispers and stares around him.

"...spitting image of Harry Potter, that boy is..."

"...if only he had glasses and a scar..."

So when he was sorted into Slytherin, it came as quite a shock to everyone.

But not him.

Slytherin was for the ambitious, and he had one ambition:

to be his own person.


	4. Blue Gray

Blue Gray

She realized she didn't know his eye color.

"Scorpius?"

"Mhmm?" Torn pieces of grass fluttered down from his open hand as he rolled onto his stomach.

She brushed them away with her sketchbook. "What color are your eyes?"

"I thought you would know that."

"When I'm close enough to notice, we're usually snogging."

"Very true."

"They're sort of smoky gray," she mused, gazing out at the lake, "but not completely, with some hints of light azure, like the sky during the summer or the kitchen at Shell Cottage. And-"

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"You're overthinking this. Just color them blue and gray."

**Please review! It'd make me happy.**


	5. Dandelion

Dandelion

They walked outside, hand in hand.

Along the way, he stooped to pluck a dandelion. "Make a wish."

Together, they leaned forward and blew all the seeds away.

Teddy grinned at her ladylike grace. "So what did you wish for?"

"Courage." Victoire twisted the bare stem and let it drop to the ground.

He raised his blue eyebrows. "What for?"

"So I could do this." She explained, kissing him gently on the lips.

There was a moment's silence when they broke apart.

And then he smiled. "I guess both our wishes came true."

**Review! Heck, flame if you want. Any feedback is appreciated.**


	6. Bittersweet

Bittersweet

He could've been the one who died, but he wasn't.

It was worse.

He was the one left behind.

The others lost loved ones, but they didn't lose their other half.

He did.

All George's happy memories are tainted with Fred, back when he was alive and happy.

Whenever it's his birthday, he misses the one who would have helped him blow up the cake.

Even Angelina is a living reminder. Is Fred that easily replaceable? Is one twin as good as the other?

And he will never be able to laugh again without thinking that Fred would have also laughed.

**Guess what author loves her readers and reviewers the most? You guessed it. Me!**

**Thanks to my readers and reviewers!  
><strong>


	7. Tan

Tan

"Aww, c'mon, Moony."

"Absolutely not."

Sirius attempted to close Remus' book. "You're coming outside with us. Now."

"Go without me." Remus said, managing to yank his book out of Sirius' grip.

"But you're the one that needs to go outside and play Quidditch!" James pulled up the sleeve on Remus' school robe, revealing a pale and skinny arm.

Remus shoved him. "You and I both know that I'd much rather be inside."

"That's why you're not tan and gorgeous like me." Sirius reasoned jokingly.

Remus sighed. "For the last time, the level of melanin in your skin-"

"Can you just shut up and come with us to practice?"

"Okay," Remus agreed, "But I want to say that you two take the prize for most annoying friends."

"We know."

**Reviews, favorites, and story alerts are all cherished.**


	8. Black

**I've written another depressing drabble about fallen heroes. Blame it on Memorial Day.  
><strong>

Black

Ginny folded her hands in her lap and blinked away more tears.

She had probably cried more this past few weeks than she ever had in her entire life.

She cried for Fred. As annoying as he could be, he was her brother and friend.

She cried for Remus and Tonks. She had hardly known them, but they were members of the Order, and it scared her to think that it could've been her own parents that died.

She even cried for Snape, because all along he had been helping Harry, and everyone had still hated him.

And the clothes.

She didn't usually wear black, but the week after the Battle of Hogwarts, all she wore was black.

The youngest Weasley, the one that never cried and was the life and soul of the Quidditch team even after a break up, was now weeping, attending funerals, mourning, and wearing black.

All because of one man.

And she hated him for it.

**Before you start telling me this is OOC and Ginny would never cry that much, let me just say that I wanted to show that sometimes even the toughest spirits can be broken. I've always liked Ginny's ability to keep a stiff upper lip, but she's still human at heart.**

**Anyways, review and don't forget you can give me color suggestions.**

**(",) Bob want you to review, too!**


	9. Maroon

Maroon

"I swear, these sweaters just keep getting uglier."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Your mother made that for you! We're all going to wear ours to her Christmas dinner. Including you."

"Easy for you to say. Yours looks amazing."

Hermione looked down at her outfit and made a face. "Ron, it's pink."

"So? Nothing's uglier than maroon."

"Don't make your mother's hard work go to waste."

"I'll give it to that homeless bloke that lives under the bridge."

"He owns about fifteen Weasley sweaters by now."

"Fine, I'll wear it, but on one condition: don't buy me any other clothing in maroon."

**You know the drill: reviews, please!**


	10. Wisteria

**This update is in honor of JKR's new site: Pottermore. So excited!**

Wisteria

"If it's a girl, I want to name her after a flower," Lily said.

James grinned mischievously. "How about Wisteria?"

Lily smacked him on the head with a book of baby names. "Who names their kid 'Wisteria'?"

"I had a girlfriend named Wisteria."

Lily made a face. "Now I _really_ hate that name."

"What if it's a boy?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Lily admitted, resting a hand on her stomach.

"We could name him Harry," James suggested.

"Harry," she repeated. "That's actually not that bad. I never thought you would ever come up with something smart."

"Harry it is, then."

**Leave me some color suggestions in a review!**


	11. Red

Red

She finds him dying.

One glance at the gashes across his chest and she knows there's nothing she can do. His dark red blood is already pooling on the cobblestones, where it mingles with her tears.

"Tell Teddy I'm sorry…" He coughs, scarlet trickling from his lips. "Sorry… won't be there for him. Or you. Love you both."

He coughs again. And then he stops forever.

Red everywhere.

The stones. Her hands. The edges of her vision.

There will be time for grieving later.

For now, the Death Eaters will be sorry they ever tried to mess with Nymphadora Tonks.


	12. Lavender

Lavender

"Wake up, Won won!"

"Hermione?" Ron mumbles, half asleep on the common room sofa.

Lavender Brown cuddles up next to him. "No, silly. It's me. You were awake all last night studying."

"Oh."

That's all he says. Not "Hi, nice to see you" or "Good morning."

If his girlfriend is disappointed, she doesn't show it.

"Where's Hermione?"

Now it's obvious she's upset. "Why don't you care about me?"

Because when I snog you I think of her.

Because I'll never love you the way I love her.

Lavender will never be anything but a poor substitute for Hermione.

**Ugh, so much romantic fluff! All these drabbles are either fluffy or depressing.**

**Review!**


	13. White

**I was going to write something all angsty just because I didn't get into Pottermore, but this popped out instead. Ah well. Happy birthday to Harry Potter, btw, and happy belated birthday to Neville Longbottom!  
><strong>

White

Sitting next to her at St. Mungo's, he decides he hates the color white.

The color of the sterile bed sheets, the color of the over-friendly staff's uniforms, and the color of Hermione's pale face.

She cries out and squeezes his hand as she has another contraction.

"You're doing fine," Ron says. He doesn't really know what else to say. He has always been hopeless in these kinds of situations.

She tries to smile, to reassure him. "I never thought anything would be worse than the Cruciatus Curse."

He tries to smile back. He can't.

Hours later, after much blood and sweat and crying, not all produced by the mother, he is handed a perfect little person.

She is too amazing to describe. She opens her eyes to look at him and her little fingers grab a fistful of her white hospital gown.

He decides he loves the color white.


	14. Granny Smith Apple

Granny Smith Apple

"Red apples taste better!"

"But green apples are healthier!"

Scorpius sighs theatrically. "The red apple is a symbolic part of history. What color apple is Eve holding in nearly every illustration ever made?"

"Red apples are so sweet!" Rose insists, standing up abruptly and almost knocking over the basket of said apples on the breakfast table.

He grins and takes a bite of one. "Like you."

Her mouth opens to retort, but no snappy comeback comes out. She smiles instead.

She is still smiling when she finds a Granny Smith apple on the corner of her desk in Charms, with a note in handwriting as familiar as her own.

_It's not as sweet as you are, but it'll have to do._


	15. Brown

Brown

Ordinary-looking, plain brown eyes. Unruly mane of plain brown hair.

Average. Forgettable.

Plain. Plain. Plain.

Hermione hated what she saw in her reflection.

For Merlin's sake, Ron hadn't even realized she was a girl until last week.

But not Him. He thought she was beautiful, He thought she was charming. He asked her to the Yule Ball.

Her! Plain, brown, buck-toothed Granger was asked to the Yule Ball by an international Quidditch player!

Ron had no right to be angry with her for finding someone who, for once, made her feel beautiful. No longer plain brown but a warm, exquisite, imported chocolate kind of brown.


	16. Brick Red

Brick Red

It was a cozy, two-story.

Molly thought it was perfect. Arthur wasn't so sure.

But by then, she'd already christened it "The Burrow" and planned the garden. Plus, he didn't want to fight a pregnant woman.

Board by board and nail by nail, brick by brick and charm by charm, the Burrow grew with the Weasley family.

Sure, the wide, even boards topped red brick like a crooked smile and the upper levels jutted out at strange angles.

But the chaotic clash of pattern and texture was an enduring testament to the resourcefulness and -yes- craziness of a family unlike any other.


	17. Wild Blue Yonder

Wild Blue Yonder

He's not scared, he tells himself. Well, mostly not, anyway. It's just different now, entering a war with someone you love.

He tears his eyes away from the white graduation pavilion below and swings his broomstick towards the rising sun. His life spills before him in every direction, a rolling expanse of unpredictable blue.

The congratulatory letter burns in his pocket. "Department of Law Enforcement, Auror Office." In the other pocket, the newly-resized engagement ring, ready and waiting. His heart pounds just thinking about it.

All around him, the sky sings of maybe and chances — real, life-and-death chances — and he tries not to believe that's enough to scare the fearless James Potter.

"Oy, Prongs," shouts Sirius from the barren stands, hands cupped around his mouth. "You aren't planning to fly away or something, right?"

James waves jauntily. "And miss my last breakfast at Hogwarts? Yeah right."

His feet send the mud splattering.

**Trying to get back into writing. Thanks for being patient with me.**


End file.
